The Night

The night takes the light and the life away, but not forever.
It takes it long enough to feel it's loss,
To understand the power of nothing;
Mostly its power to take away without remorse,
Without reason, and without justice.

The night is a conductor, where all possibilities flow,
Where the future and the past become real,
Where the present is contemplated;
Questioned, doubted, and sometimes rejected.
The night is when we sometimes run, but mostly dream of running.

The night is where our evil lives,
Our vices, demons, and lies all thrive,
And threaten to take away, but mostly just to change us.
The world will change what we allow it to,
The night will open the door, for good and bad.

The night is where our true selves lie,
The past of hurt, the present of challenges.
A man who loves, through flaws and scars,
And those who stand with shoulders strong,
A village of friends and foes alike,
A life we've made, preparing to come.

The night's a void with points of warmth,
Like the world itself, both dark and spectacular.
Of cold and quiet, without our own spark.
The night's my life, where I live, where I love,
Where and who I am, and without me,
The night will go on.

a short thought on loneliness and strength

We all have strengths: those things that help to guide us through life, by natural ability.  Some of us are good with people, some are wholly trustworthy, some have an incredible tolerance for pain.  I sometimes feel like I'm an 85 percent match for all three of those.

We set up these devices- our interests, our vices, sex, tv, internet- and allow them to create noise.  The noise drowns out the loneliness: the knawing, clawing, sucking sound of loneliness.  If allowed to speak, it will question everything.

The devices come down sometimes, and it's quiet enough to hear the loneliness, and once it starts, it never stops.  "Do you know what you're doing?"  "You don't, do you?  But you've got everyone else fooled, somehow?"  "What are you going to do?"  "When's he coming home?"

Midnight, alone.  Only the loneliness as a companion.  A baby on the way, along for the ride.  I hope he can't hear the loneliness.  Once you've heard his voice, it never fades away.  In the dark quiet moments of childhood even, he's there.  He never ages, but he does sharpen over time.

He's vengeful, having been drowned out by the drugs- that deliciously intense narcotic noise- for so long.  My body hates me for leaving them behind; now we all get to hear the loneliness drone on:

"How will you do this?"  "Have you thought all this out?"  "What were you thinking?"  "Where is he, and does he really mean what he says?"

And with no drugs, and no drinks, and no all night parties, and no men who pay me, and no alternate life to fantasize about, I'm left with this.  Me and the loneliness, staring down a new, permanent path.  Everything's changed, and changing; a baby on the way.  Please, please don't let him hear the loneliness.

Random Thoughts II

• I just googled 'broke ass bitch' without even thinking about why.  I think my subconscious has Tourette's.
• Has a soccer player ever scored a goal, shrugged, then jogged nonchalantly back into defensive formation?
• Starting to wonder how the fuck I failed to vacation in a place called Hedonism before I went and got knocked up.  Optimistically...when can I get my body back post-baby, and schedule a trip to a place called Hedonism?
• I think I'm using too many exclamation points lately.  Even when I'm happy, I'm not 'peppy'.  We need punctuation that conveys quiet satisfaction; we're overdue.
• Basketball's the only sport that can be reliably thrown by nefarious gangsters for gambling purposes, but everytime I watch an NBA team featuring either a prominent team or star, I come away thinking that the league is the one fixing the games.  
• At this point, I think everyone's afraid to tell Nicki Minaj no, so we all have to hope for the best.  It worked out for Lady Gaga until she made that god-awful country-sounding song.  Nobody's heard from her since; let that be a lesson to you, Nicki.  Or not, it's cool...either way.  
• Does Stevie Wonder resent that the only time he comes up in rap songs, it's an analogy to how blind somebody is?
• That song "The Greatest Love of All" by Whitney Houston is stupid.  Who the fuck doesn't know that the children are, by virtue of becoming adults, "the future"?  And then she says the greatest love of all is the ability to love herself?  Narcissistic cokehead.

Weekend Getaway

So this weekend I went to San Antonio with my boyfriend.  It was our chance to get away together- just the two of us- before the baby comes and while I still have energy to have fun.  We've both been so busy, and when we haven't been busy, we've been with friends and family a lot.  So this was my idea, and I have to say it was a good one.

 Our hotel, thanks to Priceline.com :)

San Antonio is about 4.5 hours south of where we live, and we picked the perfect time of year to go.  All three days were cloudless and warm.  I love the feel of the city, it's very diverse and laid back.  

Our hotel was right on the riverwalk, which is a continuous string of restaurants, bars, and shops along both sides of the San Antonio river downtown.  I took the pic below from a tour boat.

Here's a better pic, that captures the feel of the riverwalk at night, but I didn't take this one. 

If only all of my ideas were this good.  We had a great time together, got closer (and how wonderful to find out that's possible!), and I really didn't want to come back home when it was time to leave.  He has family there, and I love the city, so down the road, who knows?  Maybe I'd like to live down there.  Between San Antonio and Austin, I can definitely say that I like that part of the state more than the area I live in.  It's so different there.  

First Nesting

The first nesting in my house was not done by the actual pregnant person whose urge is to nest!  

I got home and my wonderful man had put the first coat on the walls of the baby's room.  I didn't even ask.  He just took the color I picked a few days ago, bought the paint, and fucking did it!  He's not even here, so I discovered it on my own.

I'd put up a picture, but...well you know...it's just a first coat, and therefore looks a little sloppy still.

YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU!! NOT CRITICIZING!!

But ya- pics of the bad ass color I selected will be made available...once the trim gets painted.  :)

In all seriousness...home is wherever I'm with you, baby.

Okay, end of sappy message.  I won't do this all the time everyone, I promise!  But I just had to give him his props.  I'm so excited and surprised.

Back to sex stories and fun in the next blog entry, I promise. ;)

New Things: Now and Later

In the month since I last posted, I was able to complete that story I hinted at- which most of you are well aware of, called The Fall of the Chateau Glissant.  It's in six parts, so the link sends you to the first one.

It's by far the longest, and I can definitely say, best, piece of writing I've ever done.  All together, it's novella-length, and therefore, kind of a commitment, but I hope you'll give it a shot. It's got a quick pace and plenty of action.

I also just had my six month appointment and check-up.  All is well, and so I'm now just 3 months away from being a mom.  It still blows my mind.  

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PERSONALITIES AND STORIES WORTH KNOWING

I want to take this time to shine a little light on a few people and their work over at Lush Stories.

Let's start with Frank Lee, a very talented writer, poet, and great guy.  I'm just beginning to delve into his work myself, but I suggest going straight to Diaphanous Siren, a story that took my breath away, and then exploring a deep catalogue of sensual poems from there.  His blog is also linked from the right-hand margin. 

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Cocokisses has several captivating stories of group sex and swinging; of couples and singles living life on the wild side.  There's more than a touch of autobiographical flair to her work; and it's up to all of our imaginations to imagine the real from the fiction.  Either way, it reaches out and grabs you.  And as always, if you take the time to read, then take another thirty seconds to leave a comment.  All writers will appreciate it more than you know.  

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SITTING has woven an 11-party series, titled Sex Money (link goes to chapter one) which has gotten a lot of well-deserved attention, and I feel it deserves a little more.  Her characters are richly developed, and if you give the first chapter a shot, you'll likely find yourself sucked into the whole series, and will be glad you do.  

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And from some other aforementioned and/or well-known writers:

Sprite added an amazing story to her Blondie series, Blondie and the Dancing Dead, and it just might be my personal favorite of all her stories.  Stephanie, in collaboration with Mazza, wrote The Client on the Sixth Floor, which has since been awarded with a coveted Editor's Pick. ArtMan's series Tuck's American Road Trip is picking up speed now, with five quality installments, all filled with twists, turns, and unexpected erotic fun.  

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  There's a wealth of talent out there in the world of Erotic Fiction, and my only goal is to give what meager exposure I can from this space.  Let me know if I left anything worth mentioning out, and I'll get it up immediately.  Otherwise, maybe I've mentioned one you haven't read; in which case, give it a shot.  

Rumblings

So earlier today/yesterday, I hinted on LushStories that I'd be posting a new story soon, and I hope to get that submitted very soon.  It feels good to write again, and that's the main reason why I haven't been blogging in the last few weeks.  Whatever time I have or make for writing, I've been allocating toward my story(s).  I hope when it's done that it will seem worth the wait, if only for me.

Valentine's Day, maybe my least favorite of the holidays, wasn't so bad this year.  Actually, I have to admit to feeling like a total bitch, the way I spent all day sneering at the whole idea of Valentine's Day, the way I do every year, only to have my boyfriend take me out to eat and give me a wonderful gift.  Turns out that he doesn't share my dislike of Valentine's Day, and really focused on giving me a nice night with him (who after all the big action is fast asleep like a hibernating bear).  He even remembered how sad I was that I couldn't go to Jamaica with a friend of mine, so he took me to a Jamaican restaurant, and it was really good.

So I still maintain that Valentine's Day is commercial, and a big moneymaking scheme, and cheesy at best, but as long as I"m with a guy who takes it seriously at least to the point of wanting me to feel special, I can accept it (begrugdingly).

Ok, well, off to sleep soon for me, and hopefully continuing work toward finishing my story.  Wish me luck. :)

Random Thoughts

I think I'd like Coldplay if they had a different singer.  He just sounds so wimpy.  Less violin would probably help, too.

How creepy are those Ashton Kutcher camera commercials now that we know what we know?

A piece of free advice:  If you're ever in a Chinese restaurant, and choose to order the pu pu platter, resist the urge to order "extra pu pu".  I know it seems funny, but at least 1 out of 4 white customers makes this joke, it's not fresh. Don't be that person.

If I ever run my own TV network, I'm having a show where a bunch of attention-whoring alpha-girls get liquored up and vie for the affections of one guy, making fools of themselves and creating drama out of whole cloth along the way.  Oh that's right....I love The Bachelor!

I don't think I'll ever be friends with one of those people whose Starbucks order is a paragraph long.  The employees must have fairly rigorous eye-roll prevention training when they get hired.

New Year, New Things

So I've neglected this space since the new year, but not intentionally; I just have a an issue with posting 'nothing' just for the sake of posting.  I'm not sure how many people want to read a blog that's basically an overgrown facebook status update log, but all the same I do enjoy sharing.  

Last week a friend of mine took me to the Dallas Museum of Art to see the Jean-Paul Gaultier exhibit.  I was shocked, titillated, amused, and intrigued throughout, and if the museum nazi had not issued an immediate and stern rebuke, I'd have taken pictures and posted them here.  

You might know Gaultier as the designer of Madonna's famous "Vogue"-era costumes if nothing else, but he's worked with countless people, designed many gowns as well as ready-to-wear lines, and even costumes for movies such as The Fifth Element.  Some of the items he's designed are so outrageous that they're completely out of the realm of the practical, but until I made the mental leap that his couture (unique, high-fashion) pieces are much more pieces of art then they are functional clothing, I couldn't fully appreciate his work.  He's successful, he pushes boundaries, he challenges the norms, he values the organic and allows it to influence the high art that he creates.  In short, he's everything I'd like to be as an artist, regardless of what form my 'art' ends up taking.  Maybe I should study fashion.

The sketch shown above is one of Gaultier's working drawings when he was first creating Madonna's tour wear.  I love these kinds of pictures because they truly show the vibe and character of what he's trying to create.  Once the clothing becomes real, he and Madonna own it jointly, each one's personality combining to create a unique 'look' that is neither fully Gaultier or Madonna.  But at this stage, it's a portal into Jean-Paul's mind.  

If by chance you get a chance to see this exhibit, either here in Dallas or elsewhere, I can't recommend it highly enough.

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Finding Diamonds, Inside and Out

Unlike the January 2011 version of myself, I'm now a Buddhist.  It seems odd for me to say this because I'm really so far away from realizing any and all of the possibilities that are within each of us.  We are all wellsprings of compassion, patience, generosity, and concentration, but the world around us challenges them all..  I'm not sure, other than a special person in my life introducing me to it, exactly why I chose this path for myself, but from the very beginning, I've felt a calmness and a quiet whenever I've thought about my own spirituality.  The rest of my life, including the thoughts in my mind tend to be very loud.  They clamor for attention, they shout impulsive feelings, and they distort the truth to serve nefarious motives.  But these teachings help to quiet them, if only because I've pushed them away temporarily, and hopefully I'll find ways to quiet them for good as time goes by.

I don't go to the temple that often, but yesterday a friend and I went to one near Fort Worth, pictured below.

It's a beautiful structure, and there are a few others in their complex that are beautiful as well.  We stayed for   chanting, meditation, plus a dhamma talk and fellowship, before emerging back into the loud world around us.  It's my hope to eventually find a place inside myself where the quiet will rule at all times.  

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Since many are interested, I'm now 17 weeks pregnant.  My baby is the size of a white onion, or thereabouts.  This reminds me: why are fetus size milestones always compared with foods?  Isn't that a bit messed up?  Every week, my pregnancy app tells me how big my baby is ("this week your baby is the size of a pear", "....an avocado",  "...a grape".   Somehow I never want to eat those foods directly after reading that!